Page 10 of Jasper
Her words feel like a cold knife to my heart. Part of my rational brain knows that what she’s saying is true. I’m just a glorified incubator with no say in the matter. But what she’s asking is so wrong. I might have signed away my rights when I agreed to be their surrogate, but this baby is half mine.
“I understand your concerns. But I can’t do that,” I tell her quietly.
Mr. Whitmore lifts his chin and glares at me. “Don’t act like you have a choice.”
I jerk back like he slapped me. “Excuse me?”
“This was a paid arrangement,” he says, folding his arms. “The contract you signed stipulated that you were a vessel, not adecision maker. If we have to sue you, we will. And unless I miss my guess, you can’t even afford legal representation.”
I feel something shift in me then. A tiny, fragile spark. Not a decision maker. How dare he say that to me.
Mrs. Whitmore adds, “Think very carefully about the position you’re in, Ms. Grant. If you refuse to cooperate, the clinic may force you to pay, since I’m certainly not going to give them one red cent. You’ll walk away with nothing but a big pile of medical debt, and that means you won’t be considered for another surrogacy.”
“And you’ll be stuck with a baby that belongs to no one,” Mr. Whitmore adds.
“I need time to think,” I say. My voice is small but steady. I don’t have to think at all, I know what I’m going to do. While I believe that women should have the right to choose, this is what I choose.
I’m keeping my baby.
Mrs. Whitmore stands and slings her purse over one shoulder. “Don’t take too long. We’ll be contacting our legal team this afternoon.”
They both storm out, leaving me reeling.
When Dr. Langford returns fifteen minutes later. I’m still sitting in the chair, trying to wrap my head around what just happened.
I’m quick to tell him, “I’m sorry the Whitmores chose to leave before we could get this resolved. I know you’re trying your best.”
He sighs. “Yeah, they had words with me on the way out the door. All communication needs to go through their attorney moving forward.”
“Again, I’m so sorry,” I tell him earnestly. God knows that after our conversation, the Whitmores are not my favorite people.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s our fault this mix-up occurred. I have one more thing to check on, Ms. Grant. Would you mind waiting here just a little longer?”
I nod numbly. I don’t have the energy to argue. I feel like if I stand up, my legs will give out, so sitting a while longer works for me.
He disappears into the adjoining office. The one with the frosted glass walls and the view of the nurse’s station. I can see the shape of him moving behind the glass. Then I hear his voice. It’s muffled but clear enough through the cracked door. He left me in here to make a phone call.
“Mr. Jackson? This is Dr. Langford, the Medical Director at New Horizons Fertility.”
Jackson. That must be him, the man whose genetics I’m carrying inside me.
There’s a pause and then Dr. Langford explains, “I’m calling regarding an error involving your sample. It was accidentally used for IVF.”
Another pause.
“Yes. It resulted in a viable pregnancy. That is correct.”
Even though I know what’s being said, my breath catches. Hearing it out loud from someone else’s mouth makes it real allover again. There’s a click and Dr. Langford speaks again, “I just put you on speaker so I can take notes while we talk.”
Then I hear the voice on the other end of the line. It’s male, deep and rough, not cold like Mr. Whitmore’s, but tense and laced with note of warning.
“You’re saying someone used my sperm?”
“Yes, I’m very sorry. The circumstances were highly irregular.”
Silence again. Then a bark of disbelief. “Jesus Christ!”
The next part makes the hair on my arms stand up.
